Read Online Vengeance to the Max by Jasmine Haynes - Free Book Online
Authors: Jasmine Haynes
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not the way you want to be.”
No, no, it wasn’t. She wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“You’ll figure it out. The first step is admitting it.”
Her butt had started to ache on the carpet. She rolled to her knees and stood. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being afraid.”
“That means you have all the more courage when you do step out on a limb. Open the door.”
She closed her eyes, but she could still see the gleaming knob behind her lids.
“Open it for him.”
With trembling fingers, she turned the handle, a soft snick as it unlatched. She stopped. If Witt wanted in, he could get in.
His TV droned through the connecting door. Max rolled her suitcase to the dresser. She unpacked, stowing the minimal amounts of underwear, socks, jeans, sweaters and turtlenecks into the drawers of the bureau. Much of the stuff was new, bought for this trip using Cameron’s blood money fund. Cold-weather clothes that didn’t look like she’d gotten them at the Goodwill.
The sight of all that neatly folded clothing reminded her of the contents of Cameron’s box beneath her bed. His shirts still held the scent of his cologne, something time and dust couldn’t erase.
“What’s my plan for finding your sister?” she asked, needing to steer away from maudlin, emotional thoughts and the pressure of the unlocked connecting door.
“You already know, the library.”
“I only said that to Witt. I didn’t mean it.”
“Witt can search the Net for the names in the yearbook.”
She stopped her unpacking. “ All the names?”
“The ones that signed the book for me.”
She’d never even thought of that.
“I was the DA, sweetheart, you were merely an accountant.”
He’d worked at the Hall of Justice in San Francisco, and he hadn’t been the DA, but an assistant DA, still an important job. He had a nose for details that Max often overlooked.
Something else occurred to her. “It’s a small town. What if the library doesn’t have Internet access?”
“It’s not that small.”
All right, fine, they’d try. “And what’s your plan for me?”
“You’re going through the obituaries.”
“Does that mean you know your sister is dead?” Max held her breath waiting for his answer.
None came.
She finally exhaled when she started feeling lightheaded, worried her skin might be turning blue. Cameron wasn’t going to satisfy her curiosity or appease her fear that he once again knew more than he should, more than he was telling her.
After five minutes, she realized he’d disappeared. For now.
Chapter Six
Witt had told her to take a nap, but Max couldn’t sleep. She’d been up for over twenty-four hours, the only shut-eye she’d gotten having been interrupted by that bizarre dream or vision or whatever it was. She should have been analyzing. Instead, maybe because she could hear him muffling around in his room, her mind wandered to that moment on the plane. The Witt moment.
He’d given her a very credible release. More than credible; starburst quality. In spite of her little diatribe to Cameron—perhaps due to it—she mused that sex with Witt shouldn’t carry the taint of shame. She cared about him in her own fashion. He cared about her. He seemed to like making her feel good and relished shooting her to heaven. He wanted her hot, wet, and delirious.
She was certainly hot and wet right now. All it took was closing her eyes and recalling the rough pad of his finger on her clitoris. Max put her hand between her legs. Yep. Warm and slippery. She’d removed the tights and skirt to snuggle more comfortably beneath the covers. Her panties followed.
A little tiny self-induced orgasm would help her fall asleep. Going solo carried the same shameful taint, but at least only she knew about it. And Cameron. He remained blissfully silent as she opened her legs and delved deeper through the soft curls. Ooh, yes, that was nice. Slow. Easy. Dipping to coat her fingers, she slid back to
No, no, it wasn’t. She wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“You’ll figure it out. The first step is admitting it.”
Her butt had started to ache on the carpet. She rolled to her knees and stood. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being afraid.”
“That means you have all the more courage when you do step out on a limb. Open the door.”
She closed her eyes, but she could still see the gleaming knob behind her lids.
“Open it for him.”
With trembling fingers, she turned the handle, a soft snick as it unlatched. She stopped. If Witt wanted in, he could get in.
His TV droned through the connecting door. Max rolled her suitcase to the dresser. She unpacked, stowing the minimal amounts of underwear, socks, jeans, sweaters and turtlenecks into the drawers of the bureau. Much of the stuff was new, bought for this trip using Cameron’s blood money fund. Cold-weather clothes that didn’t look like she’d gotten them at the Goodwill.
The sight of all that neatly folded clothing reminded her of the contents of Cameron’s box beneath her bed. His shirts still held the scent of his cologne, something time and dust couldn’t erase.
“What’s my plan for finding your sister?” she asked, needing to steer away from maudlin, emotional thoughts and the pressure of the unlocked connecting door.
“You already know, the library.”
“I only said that to Witt. I didn’t mean it.”
“Witt can search the Net for the names in the yearbook.”
She stopped her unpacking. “ All the names?”
“The ones that signed the book for me.”
She’d never even thought of that.
“I was the DA, sweetheart, you were merely an accountant.”
He’d worked at the Hall of Justice in San Francisco, and he hadn’t been the DA, but an assistant DA, still an important job. He had a nose for details that Max often overlooked.
Something else occurred to her. “It’s a small town. What if the library doesn’t have Internet access?”
“It’s not that small.”
All right, fine, they’d try. “And what’s your plan for me?”
“You’re going through the obituaries.”
“Does that mean you know your sister is dead?” Max held her breath waiting for his answer.
None came.
She finally exhaled when she started feeling lightheaded, worried her skin might be turning blue. Cameron wasn’t going to satisfy her curiosity or appease her fear that he once again knew more than he should, more than he was telling her.
After five minutes, she realized he’d disappeared. For now.
Chapter Six
Witt had told her to take a nap, but Max couldn’t sleep. She’d been up for over twenty-four hours, the only shut-eye she’d gotten having been interrupted by that bizarre dream or vision or whatever it was. She should have been analyzing. Instead, maybe because she could hear him muffling around in his room, her mind wandered to that moment on the plane. The Witt moment.
He’d given her a very credible release. More than credible; starburst quality. In spite of her little diatribe to Cameron—perhaps due to it—she mused that sex with Witt shouldn’t carry the taint of shame. She cared about him in her own fashion. He cared about her. He seemed to like making her feel good and relished shooting her to heaven. He wanted her hot, wet, and delirious.
She was certainly hot and wet right now. All it took was closing her eyes and recalling the rough pad of his finger on her clitoris. Max put her hand between her legs. Yep. Warm and slippery. She’d removed the tights and skirt to snuggle more comfortably beneath the covers. Her panties followed.
A little tiny self-induced orgasm would help her fall asleep. Going solo carried the same shameful taint, but at least only she knew about it. And Cameron. He remained blissfully silent as she opened her legs and delved deeper through the soft curls. Ooh, yes, that was nice. Slow. Easy. Dipping to coat her fingers, she slid back to
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